


Stockholm Syndrome

by JustCaity



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Sort of kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustCaity/pseuds/JustCaity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes kidnaps Clint Barton for information about Captain America, but is it really just for information?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm testing this out, so please tell me if you like it by leaving Kudos or a comment. It's the first time I've written something like this.

Clint Barton did not want to go to this wedding. In fact, he despises weddings. They only remind him how people around him can be so happy when he's so...not. It's not that he's jealous of their happiness while he thinks about how happy he had once been, but isn't anymore. Lately, his thoughts have been anything but happy—they'd been on what happened with Loki. 

He still wasn't over it, even though it happened over a year and a half ago. Sometimes he still feels like he's not all there, like someone else is inside of his head and playing with it all over again. His dreams are the worst though. On his worst nights, he'll wake up screaming at the top of his lungs and covered in sweat with the image of blue eyes slowly fading from his mind. 

He shakes his head and puts a fake smile on his face as he regains focus. He doesn't even know these people too well, he only saved the bride a week before from a gang of mobsters outside of his building. She immediately invited him to her wedding. He wasn't going to go, but Nat practically forced him to because, apparently, he doesn't get out enough. Which he doesn't. He usually just stays in his apartment with a beer bottle, cold pizza, and his nightmares.

He slowly walks into the church and takes a seat in the back, trying not to look too suspicious. He sits there through the ceremony and claps when he's supposed to. Afterwards, the newlyweds take him aside and thank him for coming and saving her the other day, again. Then he leaves. He doesn't go to the reception, or stay behind to mingle like Nat would've wanted him to, but instead, he leaves. 

He walks out of the church and walks in the opposite direction of everyone else that's going to the reception. He turns a corner and lets out a small gasp as a strong hand comes out of the alley and grabs ahold of him. Before he can even make sense of what's going on, another hand, a metal one, is being held to his mouth. Next thing he knows, the face of the world's deadliest assassin is right in his face. The Winter Soldier is flush against him, intense blue eyes staring into his own blue eyes.

"Don't make a noise or I'll break your neck," the Soldier hissed at him. 

Clint nodded quickly and the hand that was on his mouth was gone. He let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding in.

"You're coming with me, don't struggle," the Soldier continued. He grabbed Clint by his arms and started pulling him in the further into the alley and into a black Kia that was parked on the side of the street at the other end of the alley. 

Clint was silent as he was guided into the car and he buckled his seatbelt as he waited for his kidnapper to do the same, which he did as soon as he got in. He was silent, until he remembered something and sighed loudly, causing the Winter Soldier to glance at him from driving.

"Hey, uh, bro, could we stop at my place real quick?" The Soldier did a double take, an actual double take, but before he could question it, Clint kept talking. 

"I need my bow and arrows," Clint said, but continued as he saw the look of hesitance on his face, "I won't use them on you, I swear. I just need them. Please." Clint didn't usually plead or beg, but he figured that it was the only option at this point.

The Soldier obviously thought about it before sighing and answering, "Fine. But I'm coming in with you and you don't touch them." Clint nodded quickly and started giving directions to his apartment building.

Once there, the soldier shut the car engine off and the both got out, with Clint leading the way up to his apartment on the third floor. He unlocks the door and steps inside, with the Soldier following close behind.

"Hey, I hope you don't mind, but your abductee is going to grab a few pairs of clothes and change out of this damn suit," Clint said as he started walking towards his bedroom, still followed by the Winter Soldier. "Listen, man," Clint continues, "I get that you don't want me out of your sight because you just kidnapped me, but I prefer you to at least buy me dinner before watching me undress." Clint smiled at what he said as he continued to his room and walking in.

The Soldier followed him into the room and closed the door behind him. He watched Clint get out of his suit and get into a pair of worn jeans and purple shirt. He grabbed a duffel bag and put a few pairs of everything in it before zipping it shut and handing it to the Winter Soldier, who took it with a confused expression on his face. 

"Look, if you're gonna kidnap me, the least you can do is carry my shit," Clint responded to his silent question. He just nodded like that's what he was supposed to be doing and continued watching as Clint grabbed his bow and his quiver of arrows before putting them both into separate cases. 

They were out of his apartment five minutes later and they were walking down his hall to the stairs, but they didn't get very far.

"Clint? Is that you?" An old and tired voice asked. An elderly lady who is Clint's neighbor was the person who spoke.

Clint smiled as he replied, "Yeah, it's me, miss Brown. I'm heading out for a bit, and I'm not sure how long I'll be gone," he said honestly.

Miss Brown gave him a radiant smile to match his own. He always did like her. "Okay, deary, just be careful. I know you can take care of yourself, but don't think I don't see you when you come limping up the stairs and into your room."

Clint's smile faltered a little at that. "Don't worry about me, miss Brown, I'll be fine!" He reassured her. She said her goodbye and then she was retreating back into her room.

Clint let out a sigh and continued following his kidnapper to the car that he undoubtedly stole. They put Clint's bags into the backseat, next to the Winter Soldier's bags, and they got into the front seats and took off in the direction they came from.

Clint sat quietly, just staring out of the window at the scenery that was passing by and wondering how he got to this point. How had he managed to get kidnapped by the Winter Soldier, of all people? Clint sighs again and looked at the Soldier, studying him. He has long, dark brown hair that covers his face when he turns, and he has a bit of scruff forming at his jaw. He's wearing a hat on his head, a jacket (despite the warmth), and an old pair of jeans. Clint is guessing that he's only wearing a jacket so that it covers his metal arm.

Clint looks away, and back out of the window at the scenery that is still going by. They drive for hours before either of them says another word. Clint preferred when the other man kept his mouth shut.

"You're Clint Barton," the Soldier said matter-of-factly. 

Clint jumped at the sudden sound, then cursed himself for doing so. "What?" He asks confused.

"Clint Barton," he repeats. "Avenger. Hawkeye. Agent of SHIELD. Ex-carnie. Your specialty is with a bow and arrows, but you're good with a gun too."

Clint shook his head in disbelief. How much does this guy know about him? "How do you know this?" Clint voiced one of his thoughts, not too eager to voice the other one.

The Soldier shrugged. "I researched you."

Clint shook his head again. He couldn't believe this guy. First, he kidnaps him, and now, he reveals that he knows a lot about Clint. This guy was something else.

"Okay, dude, you know my name, now what's yours?" Clint asked with sarcasm and curiosity lacing his tone. 

He thought about it for a long time, so long that Clint thought he wouldn't answer, but he did. "James." And that was that.

They were silent for the next several hours, finally pulling off of the road and into the lot of a small motel. 

Once parked, Clint went to get out, but was stopped by a hand on his wrist. "No," the Soldier said. "You stay here." He turned around and dug into his bag for something before he came up with a pair of handcuffs.

"Oh, hell no!" Clint said and he started shaking his head. 

James ignored him and reached over into Clint's personal space to lock the handcuff onto Clint's right wrist and onto the door handle. James got out of the car and walked into the motel, while Clint waited for his kidnapper to return. 

He didn't even know why James kidnapped him in the first place! Nothing made any sense to him, and the more he thought about it, the more confused he got. 

Before he could think too much of it, James came back into view and headed towards Clint's door. He opened it and unlocked Clint's wrist from the handcuffs. He grabbed his and Clint's bags before walking towards the building again, with Clint a step behind him. 

Once they entered the room, Clint was going to flop down onto one of the hard mattresses to sleep, but James stopped him.

"Wait here," he said as he checked the room over. James checked every little crevice and crack that could be hiding something in it. He checked under the beds, in drawers, in the shower, behind the small TV across from the beds, everywhere.

"It's clear," James said as he walked over to the bed and starts examining his weapons. 

"Good. Can I take a shower now?" Clint asked in annoyance. James nodded and Clint took a change of clothes with him into the bathroom. He set them on the sink and stared at his reflection. He was a mess. He has a bit if scruff himself, and he looks like he hasn't slept in weeks, probably because he hasn't. Shrugging, Clint took off his clothes and got into the shower, relishing in the semi-warm water.

He managed to shower, dry, and get changed in about fifteen minutes—a personal record. He finishes off toweling his hair dry, tossing the towl on the floor, and exiting the small motel bathroom. 

James was laying on his bed with his back against the headboard when Clint came out of the bathroom. He glanced at Clint as he came into the room. Clint picked up the remote from the TV stand and took it back with him to his bed. He flipped through a series of channels before finding one with an old movie on it. He settled on that and sat back, trying to get comfy.

Clint glanced over at James. "So, what are your plans now that you've managed to kidnap me?" Clint asked, mostly out of curiosity.

James shrugged and said nonchalantly, "You know Captain America." 

Clint started choking on air as he processed what James had said. He didn't even know Steve Rogers all that well, only what he read from a file he stole from SHIELD and what he'd heard from Nat and Coulson. 

James sat up and looked over at Clint with concern evident on his face. It's strange to see any kind of emotion that isn't hate or anger on the Winter Soldier's face, but there it is. The man who had kidnapped him was now showing concern for him. This day couldn't get any weirder for Clint.

"Why would you assume that I know about Captain America?" Clint asked once he calmed himself down.

James shrugged. "You're an Avenger. You have to know something about him," he said. "But we can't talk about him here. We're not in a secure location yet," he said, turning serious. 

Clint nodded and stopped talking, turning back to the TV instead. After about an hour, James got up and walked over to one of his bags and he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Clint realized what he was going to do, and he didn't like it. James walked over to him with the cuffs in hand.

"Aw, come on, man!" Clint whined. "Do you really have to cuff me? In my sleep?" 

James nodded as an answer and he rolled up Clint's jeans a little bit so that he could put the cuffs on his ankles. After checking them, James went over to his bed and laid on his bed, turning away from Clint to fall asleep. 

Clint sighed and turned off the TV, also going to sleep for the night. As he closed his eyes, Clint thought, Why me?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter to Stockholm Syndrome, obviously. I hope you like it! Please leave comments and Kudos, it really brightens my day when I see them there. Enjoy!

Clint woke up screaming, covered in cold sweat, and with a super soldier kneelimg at his bedside, holding a damp washcloth. At first, he was confused, but then his dream came back to him and he could see the icy blue eyes in his mind again.

Clint started to shake as he remembered more and more of his nightmare. He was looking through his sight, locking onto Natasha's head. He didn't see his long time friend and partner, but instead, he saw a target.

"Barton."

He breathed in and out slowly, waiting until his target stopped moving and to get alone.

"Barton!"

A voice was in his head, telling him to let the arrow go and hit its target. He waited a fraction of a second before he let the arrow fly true, hitt-

"CLINT!"

Clint couldn't breathe. James was by his side, and he was the one who had snapped him out of own mind. He's still shaking and James is holding onto his arms, trying to calm him down, but he can't.

"You're name is Clint Barton. The year is 2015. We're in a cheap motel," James said in a rush. "You with me, Barton?"

Clint took deep breathes, in and out, in and out, before slowly nodding his head. After a few more minutes, he stopped shaking and James handed him a glass of water. Clint takes the glass and downs the whole thing in one gulp. 

James looks at him the whole time with a concerned look on his face. Clint supposes he should be embarrassed by his nightmare, but he isn't. He's too tired to care. He flops back down on his bed and sighs loudly. 

James is still kneeling at his bedside, now with a confused expression, but the concern is still there. "Are you okay?"

Clint sighs again. "Yeah, I'll be fine, dude. Don't worry about it."

James looks doubtful. "How can I not worry? You woke up in the middle of the night, screaming your head off."

Clint sighs for a third time, but looks at James this time. "You're right. Worry all you want. I don't care."

James is silent for a few moments, just staring into Clint's eyes as he tries to read them. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asks finally, almost regretting the words as he says them.

Clint let out a laugh, as if he couldn't believe that the Winter Soldier had just asked to talk about his dreams. James just sat there, with a confused, yet patient, look on his face. "No, James. I do not want to talk about it, nor will I ever want to talk about it," Clint replied rudely. Clint thinks that he should be nicer to the guy with the metal arm who could kill him in one move, but then again, he doesn't care anymore. He just wants a six-pack of beer and to pass out from the world.

"Fine, whatever," James says as he gets back up and moves over to his own bed and laying down on it. "Just trying to help," he mutters as he falls asleep again.

Clint doesn't sleep for the rest of the night. The nightmare was too vivid, too real for his liking. He looks over at the clock on the bedside table. 2:36. Great. He has to wait several more hours until his kidnapper wakes back up to unlock his cuffed feet. Sighing, Clint picks up the remote and turns the TV back on. He turns the sound off and flips to a nature documentary about pandas. Clint curses silently as he feels his ears hurting from the hearing aids that he forgot to take out last night. He takes them out, one at a time, his world filling with silence once again, and sets them down on the bedside table. He's left in complete silence with the flashing colors of the nature documentary on television the only thing for him to focus on other than his thoughts.  
________  
James finally wakes up at 6:30 on the dot. Clint is still awake, hearing aids still out, and only knowing that James is awake because of the movement. Clint still doesn't put his hearing aids in, not because he doesn't want to, but because he's going to take a shower as soon as his feet are freed and they're not water resistant. 

Soon enough, James is walking over with a key in hand, unlocking his feet, then walking over to his bed. Clint stretches his legs and stands up. He realizes that James said something to him because he's looking at him expectantly. He sighs, holding up a finger that signals for him to wait, and puts in one hearing aid. 

"Say again?" Clint says when he finally got the aid in. His hearing is abit distant with only one aid in, but it works just fine.

"I said, I'm going to go get breakfast while you shower," James repeats, slightly louder than usual.

"Okay, cool, man. I'm starved," Clint says as hevtakes the aid out and heads into the bathroom.

Clint takes his time in the shower. He feels disgusting from all of the sweat that he got from his nightmare. He hasn't felt this gross in a long time. It's about a half an hour later when he finally steps out of the shower, dries off as best as he can, gets dressed again, and exits the bathroom. 

James is back from his breakfast run. He smells coffee, which he's thankful for. He walks over to the night stand and puts in his hearing aids before grabbing the food that James hands him. They eat silently for several long moments, Clint enjoying every bite of his breakfast sandwhich. 

"I didn't know you're deaf," James said, breaking the comfortable silence.

Clint coughs awkwardly. "Yeah, well I don't exactly tell everyone that the famous Hawkeye is mostly deaf." He takes a big gulp of his coffee, not even caring that it burns the back of his throat.

"Is there anything else that I need to know about you?" James asks curiously.

"No. Nothing else that you need to know," Clint says, almost sounding defensive.

James blinks at him, almost like he can't quite seem to figure him out. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but must think otherwise because he shuts it again. They finish eating in silence.

"We need to leave," James says as he finishes off his own cup of coffee. "Come on." He nudges Clint's knee with his own as he gets up to throw away their trash.

Clint gets up and grabs his bag, waiting for James to do the same. James grabs his own bag and heads towards the door, Clint following a step behind. They walk to the car side-by-side, and throw their bags in the backseat before climbing into the front seat. James starts the car, as soon as he gets situated, pulls out of the motel parking lot, and continues driving the way they were heading yesterday.

Clint leans his head back against the head rest and turns his head to look at James. He knows that he's staring, and he figures that James knows he's staring, but he doesn't care. If James can kidnap him, then he can stare.

He starts to notice how relaxed and, besides the arm, non-threatening James looks. He's sitting back in his seat, both hands on the steering wheel, and he's actually going the speed limit. He's gripping the steering wheel loosely, while still controlling it, and he has a newly acquired glove on his metal hand. Clint moves up to look at James' face. He has a confused and thoughtful expression on his face. It's almost like he's arguing with himself, or remembering something. He's always so aware of everything, probably something he picked up from his time as the Winter Soldier. 

Clint can empathize with James. He knows what it's like to be unmade, to have someone in your brain and play with it. He shivers at the memory of Loki touching the staff to his chest and his immediate surrender to the other side, something that he swore he would never do ever since he joined SHIELD.

SHIELD was, is, his family. They took him in when not even his own brother would. All thanks to Phil Coulson. His heart breaks as he remembers his old handler. He was the cause of Phil's death. He lead Loki into the helicarrier that day, and he's the reason why Loki stabbed Coulson through his heart.

"Barton?"

He didn't realize that he started shaking as he remembered more of the New York incident. So much blood from so many agents that he'd seen around. He knew almost all of them.

"Barton."

It all felt so fresh in his mind. The blue, seductive eyes telling him who to kill, when to kill. He followed the blue eyes everywhere and did whatever they told him to do. He couldn't get those damn blue eyes out of his mind. They haunt him wherever he goes, whether it's in his dreams, or in real life.

"Barton! Stay with me, dammit!" He knew that voice. It wasn't the blue mist talking. Clint tried to focus on the voice when he felt a sharp pain in his lower abdomen. He focused on that pain to bring himself fully out of it. 

Clint blinked and looked around. He's sitting on grass, up against the car that was turned off, and his shirt is rolled up to his chest. James is crouched down in front of him, his flesh hand on his shoulder, and his metal hand on his bare stomach, pressing into a stab wound that he got two weeks ago.

When James realized Clint was with him again, he took his metal hand off of the almost-healed stab wound and looked at Clint with an unsure look on his face. 

"I thought it would help," he said, sounding even more unsure of himself, as he vaguely gestured to Clint and looked down at the ground. "Did it help?" He asked, looking up at Clint through his eyelashes.

Clint nodded as he regained his breath. First the nightmare, and now this. Clint just couldn't get a rest, literally.

James sat back on his heels and wiped a hand across his face. He looks so tired. Clint would offer driving, but he doesn't know where they're going and he doesn't think James will let him anyways. 

"What happened to you, Barton?" James asked, bringing Clint out of his thoughts.

Clint scoffed. "Why do you even care?" Clint asked, growing defensive. Why would the Winter Soldier care about him when his own brother didn't? There's no way that Clint will be telling the Winter fucking Soldier about what happened in New York any time soon.

James glowered at him. "I'm worried about you, you idiot," he said, growing angry. Why was he angry?

"Why? Why are you worried about a pathetic little archer like me?" Clint asked harshly, not meaning to say it.

James looked at him like he lost his mind. He shook his head slowly, still looking at Clint. "I'm worried because you were having a fucking nightmare last night and you woke up screaming! I put a damn washcloth on your forehead before you woke up, and got you the water after you woke up! I'm worried because you were staring at me in the car, not talking, with your eyes wide open like a damn owl! I'm worried because I thought you were having a stroke! You started shaking and you had that damn distant look on your face so pulled off of the road to try to get you to come back to the real world! I'm worried because you're the closest thing I have to a friend right now!" 

Clint was shocked. He couldn't process everything that James was saying. He was actually worried about him. Could he consider them friends? He doesn't know what to say. James looks so deflated at the end of his spiel, but he doesn't regret any of it.

"I-" but what can he say to James. How can he thank him for saying all of that? 

Thankfully, he doesn't have to because James sighs before standing up. He holds out a hand for Clint to take and, after a few moments, he does. James hauls him up onto both of his feet, stabilizing him, before letting go. Clint secretly misses the warmth of James' flesh hand in is, but he won't tell James that. No way. What's he even thinking? James kidnapped him a few days ago! He can't be feeling anything towards him, right? Right! Totally right! In the far back of his brain, Stockholm Syndrome whispers in his mind, but he shakes it away. He's not feeling anything towards James. Nope. Not at all. 

James sighs again as he starts to head to the driver side of the car. He stops and looks at Clint. "Get in the car," he says quietly. 

Clint nods and gets in the car, still too stunned to speak. James gets in his side and starts the car up again, driving in the same direction as before.

They're silent for the next six hours, neither of them wanting to be the first to break the semi-comfortable silence. They don't talk when James pulls into a gas station and cuffs Clint to the side of the car while he pumps the gas and goes inside to pay. They don't talk when Clint wakes up from a mild nightmare again, but he does get a concerned look from James.

James pulls off the road, a couple of hours after Clint's nightmare, into the lot of an old motel. "Stay here," James says as he cuffs Clint to the side of the car.

"Yeah, like I can go anywhere," Clint grumbles when James gets out of the car to walk into the motel to get them a room. Clint's tried searching for something to pick tge lock with, but the car is clean. There's not even a bobby pin hidden on the floor or anything. There's no way that he can slip the cuffs without cutting off his hand, and he's not that desperate.

James finally returns from the motel and he goes to Clint's side of the car, opening the door to unlock Clint's wrist from the handcuffs. Clint gets out of the car and takes his bag from James when he offers it to him. 

"C'mon. Room 16," James says as he starts heading towards the motel again, holding onto Clint's shirt to make sure he doesn't try to bolt. 

Once inside the room, James double locks it and does his usual sweep of the room while Clint stays by the door and out pf the way. 

"All clear," James says as he settles down on one of the two twin beds, and starting to examine and clean his weapons. 

Clint smiles, his first in a long time, and sets his stuff down on the other bed. "I'm going to take a shower, okay?"

James nods, and at that, Clint goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself. Clint takes a quick shower, the whole time, only one phrase is in his mind. Stockholm Syndrome. He can't get the thought away. He knows it's true because every time he looks at James, he feels something in his gut that he's not used to feeling. He hurries and showers before stepping out and toweling himself dry. 

When he steps out of the bathroom, he's wearing boxers with sweats overtop, hanging low on his hips, and a white tank top that clings to his skin. James looks up when he re-enters the room, but looks back at the TV a moment later. Shrugging, Clint walks over to his bed and lays down on it, feeling content for the first time in a long time.

"So, how'd you know I was stabbed recently, and in that spot?" Clint asked as he watched then documentary about giraffes.

"I didn't," James replied. "I just needed to find a spot to bring you back so I rolled your shirt up and found it." 

Clint nodded. That made sense. After awhile, James got up and walked over to his bag, returning with the handcuffs that Clint hates so much. Clint let him put them on his feet, but he complained the whole time. Once they were on and secure, James walked back over to his bed and feel asleep. Clint did the same, hoping that he would be nightmare free for once.

Clint didn't dream.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit different. It's (mostly) from Bucky's POV. The chapters might also get delayed slightly, but that's because school just started. Once I start getting homework and more into band season, then I won't be able to update as often. Other than that, enjoy chapter 3!

One week. It has been one week since Clint was kidnapped by the Winter Soldier. James has been remembering more of his past, like his full name. James Buchanon "Bucky" Barnes. Clint has taken to calling him 'Barnes' now, unless he wasn't paying attention and zoning out, then Clint would call him 'James', or even 'Bucky' if he was really out of it.

Clint had gotten more attached to Barnes over the past week, and he thinks that Barnes is starting to like him more and more. Clint has started opening up to him, too, and every time he does, Barnes either looks more confused about Clint's sanity or happy (yes, happy!) about the newly acquired information.

Clint and James are in, yet again, another motel. They've been stopping every night around ten, and they leave the next morning around seven. James would get them dinner in the morning, they'd watch TV while they eat, James would cuff Clint's feet, then they'd sleep. In the mornings, James would get breakfast before Clint would wake up, he'd uncuff Clint's feet, they'd eat, then shower and get ready to leave again. They never stayed in the same area for more than a night, and it was making Clint sick, literally and figuratively.

"Barnes, pull the car over," Clint says as he tries not to puke over the interior. James gives him an odd look before Clint glares at him and almost shouts, "Now, James!"

As soon as the car is off of the road, Clint is out and several feet away, throwing up his breakfast onto the green grass. 

James walked over and crouched beside him, patting his back lightly. "I didn't know you get carsick," James said as Clint leaned back on his knees.

Clint looked at him with an incredulous expression. "We've been in a car for the past week, only stopping to sleep. Of course I'm carsick," Clint said.

James shrugged, but looked at Clint with concern in his eyes. "Are you okay now?" He asked. "Do you want to stay here or find a motel for the rest of the day and night?"

Clint thought over his options. He could just get in the car and pretend like this never happened, but he could also end up getting sick again. On the other hand, he could have Barnes drive them to the nearest motel that is five miles down the road. That seems like the logical answer, and it's the one that Clint's going to go with. "Motel."

James nods and starts to stand, but stops himself. "Can you stand?"

Clint scoffed. "Of course I can stand. I'm not a baby. I don't need you to help me with everything," he said as he stumbled getting up. James reaches over and grabs a hold of him, smirking at him, before helping him to the car while Clint grumbles the whole way.

As soon as James was done checking the room, Clint bolted into the bathroom to empty the rest of his stomach.

James sighs. "I'm going out to get food and stuff."

"Please don't mention food at all," was Clint's reply from the bathroom. His head is still over the toilet.

James locks the door on the way out of the motel room. He walks down the road to the store before getting them food. He's going to get medicine, or something to help Barton, at the store first. 

Once he got the medicine for Clint, he headed to the local diner and got their specialty homemade soup to-go for Clint, and a regular meal for himself.

When he got back in the room, Clint had moved to lay on the bed closest to the bathroom. Clint looked up as he entered, and smiled weakly. Wow, he looks really sick.

"Hey, I got you some medicine and soup," James said as he sat down on the bed beside Clint. Clint made a face at the mention of medicine, but took it when James gave it to him, swallowing the pills with a gulp of water. 

"You need something in your stomach, Clint," James said as he pulled out the soup container. Clint nodded and, with James' help, sat up on the bed. Despite Clint's complaints, James fed him the soup. As soon as the soup was gone, James got up and made to move away, but Clint reached up and grabbed ahold of his sleeve. 

"Wait," Clint said weakly. "Will you get me my bow?" At James' hesitant look, he continued. "Just my bow, no arrows. Please? It makes me feel better when I have it." 

James sighed and nodded, leaving the motel room again, and returning a few moments later with Clint's bow case.

As soon as Clint saw the bow itself, he made grabby hands for it. James laughed quietly as he took the bow out of its case and handed it to him. Clint immediately took ahold of his bow and clutched it to his chest, like a baby with his favorite blankie.

James smiled at the sight and moved away to eat his own diner food. Clint, thankfully, fell asleep halfway through his meal, but it didn't last long. Just as James was cleaning up from their dinner, Clint woke up frantically, looking around with wide eyes. Wheb they finally landed on James, he relaxed and flopped back down on his twin bed.

James was by his side in an instant, a look of worry on his face. He knows exactly what it's like to have a nightmare that scares the living shit out of you. James sat down on the bed beside Clint again. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked him. James knows that Clint doesn't like talking about these things, but he tries anyways.

Clint shook his head, but kept muttering things about blue eyes. Sighing, James started to get up to get a damp washcloth to put on Clint's forehead, but an arm stopped him.

"Wait," Clint said. "Don't go. Please."

At that, James stopped moving, and the arm was still on his sleeve. Clint never begged, and yet, here he is, begging for him to stay with him while he's sick. James couldn't say no to that.

James let himself be pulled back to lay down, and he let Clint get comfortable, which meant rearranging both of their bodies. By the time Clint had stopped moving, James' left arm under the pillow and around Clint's shoulders and back. James' right hand lays across his stomach, on top of one of Clint's hands. Clint is completely curled around and on top of James. His head is on James' chest and both of his arms are on James' stomach, and he's sleeping again.

James sighs again—he seems to be doing that a lot lately. Clint has made sure that James can't get up or move around much, so he just lays there. Eventually, he falls asleep, close to Clint and loving every minute of it.  
________________________________  
When James woke up several hours later, Clint was still asleep and snoring softly. James smiled down at him and moved his arm, slowly and carefully, to play with his hair. Clint smiled in his sleep and curled in closer to James. 

Normally, James wouldn't want this kind of contact, but Clint is different. Clint has many good qualities, but he just doesn't see them. All he sees is the broken man that he thinks he is, because someone with blue eyes did something horrible to him. Clint won't even tell him what it is, but as long as James is there, no one will ever hurt Clint that way again. He'll make sure of it. 

James starts thinking back to only a week ago when he kidnapped Clint in the first place. Even though he knew it was wrong of him, he can't help but be happy that he had done it. 

Originally, he had kidnapped Clint to get more intel on Captain America—his failed mission and, apparently, his best friend. But no, the Winter Soldier has no friends. Bucky Barnes had friends, lots of them, but not the Winter Soldier. Besides, most of Bucky Barnes' friends are dead now. He only has Steve now, and he won't be seeing him any time soon, at least not yet. 

He has Clint now. Clint is the closest thing he has to a friend, and it only got that way because he kidnapped him to get information on Captain America, even though he knew Clint didn't have any. If he actually wanted intel, then he would've kidnapped that redheaded girl, or that dude with the wings. If he actually wanted information, then he wouldn't have kidnapped the archer who only fought one battle with him, and barely even interacted with Captain America himself. Hell, from what James knows, the only person Clint ever did talk to was the redhead! And now, Clint talks to him willingly, and he jokes around, and he's sarcastic, and he's amazing.

James is starting to think that the real reason why he kidnapped Clint was because he needed a friend. A real, true, friend. He's starting to think that Clint needs him too, more than he ever thought that someone ever would. And he's okay with that. Or he's getting to be okay with that. It's going to take a couple of days before he can truly believe that, mainly because of his damn programming. Those bastards ruined everything for him!

James took a breath in, and then released it. He couldn't think about that now. He will get back at them, but not now. Now, he needs to try to not hurt Clint by getting mad while he's sleeping on him.

Speaking of Clint, he could faintly hear his heartbeat start to return to normal, and that means that he's waking up. His suspicions are proven correct when Clint yawns and moves his hand up and down James' stomach in a soothing fashion. 

James smiles down at him again. "How are you feeling, sleepyhead?" He asked teasingly.

Clint yawned before replying. "Much better." Then he looked at how they were situated, and frowned slightly. "How'd we end up in this position?"

James laughed again—something he only did with Clint. "You put us like this before you fell asleep, remember?" 

Clint looked confused for a moment, but then the lights in his head turned on and his eyes widened. "Oh..."

James saw the signs of panic start to show on Clint's face, so he started thinking how to diffuse it before it started. "Hey, don't sweat it. It was the medicine," James said reassuringly. 

Clint nodded, causing his head to move up and down on James' chest. "Thanks. For taking care of me. I don't usually get sick that often," Clint said sheepishly.

James considered this. The Winter Soldier never got sick before, so he didn't think he would know how to deal with it. It must have been an instinct that kicked in from before the war. 

James just smiled in response. He grabbed the remote for the TV and handed it to Clint. He still doesn't know how to work the technology, but he's not about to tell Clint that. He lets Clint choose the channel they watch, this time settling on another documentary, but this time it was about the history of chocolate. He watches the strangest of things, but James thinks it's just because Clint doesn't want to watch the news. Or, more accurately, he doesn't want to see any of the other Avengers, or himself, on the news.

After another half hour of them laying together, both of them too tired to move, Clint gets up slowly and heads into the bathroom. James listens in, just to make sure he isn't vomiting again. When he doesn't hear any puking sounds, he focuses back onto the documentary. 

When Clint comes out, James gets up and goes into the bathroom next. He looks at himself in the mirror for a moment before he undresses and takes a quick shower. Once he's out, he towels himself dry quickly, gets dressed again, and goes out into the room.

He finds Clint already asleep on the bed, with the TV off. James sighs and walks over to the other bed and gets in. It's colder without Clint to share the same space with. He silently wishes that he could get into Clint's bed with him again, but he knows that he can't, not yet at least. He falls asleep to thoughts of Clint and his warmth. He doesn't dream that night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Sorry this took so long! I've been busy with school and marching band practice/games and everything! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Stockholm syndrome. Stockholm syndrome. Stockholm syndrome. Stockholm. Syndrome. That's all that Clint can think about, and it's driving him crazy! 

Stockholm syndrome. Stockholm syndrome. Clint's not even sure if that's what it is that's happening to him. When Coulson explained Stockholm syndrome to him all those years ago, he said that it'd never go as far as feeling attraction to his kidnapper. The thing is, though, that Clint Barton is attracted to James Barnes. His feelings for James are the strongest he's had towards another person in a long time, ever since Natasha.

Speaking of James Barnes:, he just exited the bathroom. Clint tries to avert his eyes, but he finds himself staring anyways. James is wearing a pair of black sweatpants that hang low on his hips. Clint's eyes move up his body and land on his chest. James hadn't put on a shirt, so he's not wearing anything above his waist, and Clint: :takes in every little detail that he can about James' body. Clint rakes his eyes up James' abs and strong muscles, looking at every scar that he can make out. 

He licks his lips subconsciously as his eyes move even further up on James' body, and finally stopping at his flesh shoulder meeting the metal arm. Clint looks at it in fascination, and James knows that he's looking at it too. 

James sighs and walks over to sit on the edge of Clint's bed. "No," he says quietly.

Clint cocks his head to the side in confusion. "No?"

"It doesn't hurt, if that's what you're wondering," he explains, shrugging lightly.

Clint shakes his head. "I wasn't thinking that at all," Clint says. "I was just wondering how it works."

"Oh," James says. He looks down at his metal arm and flexes, moving his fingers. His arm whirs as he moves it, recalibrating. It really does fascinate Clint. James looks at him in the eyes and holds his arm out towards Clint. "You can touch it, if you want to."

Clint wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste. He sat up and moved his hands onto the, surprisingly warm, metal arm. "Can you feel it?" He asks, moving his hands up and down the warm metal.

James nods. "I can feel the pressure, how hard you're pressing down, but I can't feel warmth or coldness," he explains.

Clint nods. "That's really cool," he mutters in amazement.

James shrugs. "It's a constant reminder of what they did to me." Clint nods, understanding why James doesn't exactly like the arm. "I want them to pay for what they did to me for the last seventy years," he continues, clenching his fists by his side.

Clint nods again and listens to James speak. James doesn't speak about his past a lot, so when he does, Clint knows to listen to him because he probably won't hear it for awhile. He's been telling Clint more about his memories, though, and some of them are good. The other memories are never good and they can keep Barnes silent with that thousand yard stare for days, if it's particularly bad.

James shrugs Clint's hands off of him and stands up, walking over to his own bed, and laying back down. "You should sleep. We're leaving in the morning," he says before rolling over onto his side and falling asleep quickly.

Clint sighs and takes out his hearing aids before shutting off the bedside lamp. James left him uncuffed tonight, which he is thankful for. He's been doing that a lot lately, leaving him uncuffed. James will, occasionally, cuff him again, but it's only if he's in a particularly bad mood.

Clint lays back down in his bed, and tries not to think of the haunting blue eyes that usually keeps him awake at night. Clint doesn't dream.  
__________________________________________  
Clint wakes up with a metal hand over his mouth, a body on top of his, and James' face close to his own. Clint gives him a confused look, but then he hears it and his eyes go wide. There's someone outside of their room. James gives shakes his head slightly and mouths 'be quiet' to Clint.

Clint nods and James slowly lifts his hand off of his mouth. He quietly moves into the bathroom with two knives in hand. Clint takes the hint and gets off of his bed quickly. He finds his bow and arrows under James' bed, so he takes the bow out before mouthing to James 'how many?' and James holds up his fingers to indicate that there are four of them. Clint nods and takes a few arrows out of the case before sliding under the bed to get himself out of immediate view.

Clint couldn't hear the jiggle of the door handle because he had taken his hearing aids out to go to sleep, but he saw when the door opened and four guys walked in. Clint looks over at James and gets his attention, silently. 'Hydra?' Clint mouths at him, and James nods his head. Clint nods uncertainly and mouths back 'are you sure?' James nods again, confidence evident on his face.

Bucky Barnes is gone right now, and in his place, is the Winter Soldier. He is full-on assassin, and no longer the joking guy who had kidnapped Clint from a wedding. It's scary how he can switch back and forth between the two so quickly.

James looks back down at Clint, obviously open to suggestions. Clint thinks for a second before he signs to him 'you take two, I take two' to him. James nods and waits for for the right moment to strike.

Clint nocks two arrows and waits for James to make his move. They make eye contact before James nods at him and turns slightly to look into the bedroom area. 

All at once, Barnes throws his knives at two of the Hydra agents, hitting one of of them in the neck, and the other in the chest. Clint takes that as his cue, so he rolls out from under the bed and shoots the two arrows into the two remaining guys while they're distracted by their fallen coworkers. Clint's arrows embed themselves into the first guy's head, and the other guy's neck. 

The moment the last guy hit the floor, Clint lowered his bow and James came out of the bathroom to inspect their intruders. Clint puts his bow back in the case before joining James' side.

"Man, I really hope those guys were Hydra," Clint said as he leaned over James' shoulder to see what he was doing. James was collecting their ammo.

"They were," Barnes said, emotionless. He lifted up the inside of one of their coats and revealed a Hydra symbol on the other side. Clint let out a sigh of relief and started collecting his arrows to put them back in his quiver. Once they were cleaned and put away, he put the quiver into his case alongside his bow and snapped it shut.

It wasn't until they were a half an hour away from their motel, driving down the interstate, that Clint had just realized what he'd done. He had just killed two guys in cold blood just because he thought they were Hydra. The worst part, though, was that he did it just because James said to, and he promised himself that he'd never kill anyone just because another person told him to again. He had to do it by himself. 

Clint started feeling queasy, like he could throw up at any moment. James looks over at this moment and pulls the car off of the rood immediately and killed the engine.

Clint throws his door open and jumps out of the car quickly. He stumbles a few steps before falling to his hands and knees and emptying his stomach onto the grass beside the interstate.

James looks at Clint with a worried expression on his face, but he walks over and kneels beside Clint. He rubs soothing circles on Clint's back, waiting for him to finish emptying his stomach.

Finally, after Clint's done, James speaks. "What's wrong, Barton?" 

Clint would have laughed at the cliché if he wasn't stuck in his own mind. The only things he can think about are the blue eyes that haunt him. They told him what to do, and he did it without questioning. It's what happened back at the motel. 

"Barton?" James' voice brings him out of his thoughts.

"I'm fine," Clint says, sounding far away. Even as he says it, he knows he's not fooling Barnes.

"Clint. We're not leaving until you talk to me," James says. His face is illuminated by the moonlight.

Clint sighs, but he nods, and sits back on his knees. "Fine." He pulled in a breath, and held it before breathing out. James waited patiently.

"I shot those two guys because you told me to," Clint said. Pausing to find his words, but couldn't, so he stopped trying and waited for James to answer.

James nodded and thought about his words carefully before speaking. "Those guys would have killed us, and they wouldn't have thought twice about it, Clint."

"I know, and that's not what's bothering me, James!" Clint starts. "What bothers me, is that I shot them because you told me to and I promised myself I'd never do that again! I need to have a clear reason before killing them!"

James stays silent for a few minutes, thinking of what to say to Clint. Finally, he says the only thing that comes out, "What happened to you, Clint?"

Clint looks at him with emotionless and tired eyes. He's too tired to try and make up stupid reasons about why he shouldn't tell James about the whole Loki incident. He's too tired to deny anything. He's too tired. "I'll tell you. I will. Just not on the side of the interstate where I just threw up at, okay? When we get to the next motel, I'll tell you," Clint says. 

James nods and stands up. He holds out a hand for Clint to take, which he does, pulling Clint up and onto his feet. "Okay, Clint. But the moment we get inside that room, you're talking," James said sternly. 

Clint nodded and they both went back to the car and got in. James drove for at least four hours before he pulled into the parking lot of a motel. 

Clint had slept the whole way there, and he was still asleep when James came back from getting their room. He sighed and took out their bags, and Clint's bow, and took them into the room. After that, he came back to the car and opened Clint's door. He tapped Clint on the shoulder and thought about just carrying him inside, but he immediately tossed that idea.

James poked Clint in the cheek this time and Clint woke up immediately, scaring James back a few steps.

When Clint saw it was just James, he relaxed back into his sleepy state. "What time is it?" He mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

James laughed lightly, but checked his watch. "It's just past four in the morning. We're at the motel, come on."

Clint nodded and got out of their car, following James into room twelve. James shuts the door behind them, does his usual sweep of the room, then sits down beside Clint on his bed. He hasn't forgotten about that Clint said he'd tell him why he's so jumpy and why he has panic attacks and nightmares.

"Aw, shit. I guess I have to tell you now, don't I?" Clint asked as he realized what was happening.

James nodded. "You don't have to, but you said you would."

Clint sighed and ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd picked up. "Okay. It happened a little less than two years ago. It's kind of a long story, but I'll tell it if you'll listen." He waited for any sign of James objecting in favor of sleep of something, but instead, he stayed silent. 

Clint sighed again. "You might know about it. But I'm telling it from my perspective, not the media's," he paused, collecting his thoughts. "I was told to watch over something, something called a Tesseract, but something happened. It started glowing bright blue, and when it stopped, a guy stood there. A guy from another world, called Loki." He took a shuddering breath in before continuing. He's trying so hard not to cry.

"He—he tapped a staff to my chest, and I felt a strange sensation. A sensation of loyalty towards this guy," Clint continued. "I did whatever he told me to do, even if I didn't want to, and I didn't ask questions either. I didn't need to. I infoltrated my own team's ship and tried to kill them all. I killed three hundred and seven agents that day. I knew most of their faces, and I killed them. Only because some God from another world told me to. I almost killed my best friend in the worst ways imaginable, all because he told me to." Clint stopped talking. He had nothing else to say, and even if he did, he wouldn't be able to go on anyways.

He doesn't know when he started crying, or when James put an arm around him to comfort him as he talked. Now, James held Clint as he cried about the past. Clint turned in James' arms and put both of his around James, hugging tightly. They sat like that for a long time, just embracing each other while Clint let it all out.

After Clint stopped crying, they just held each other. This is the closest that either of them have been to another person in a long time, and they're okay with that. They understand each other, connect with each other, now. They've gone through similar experiences in life and they understand each other.

James finally breaks the silence. "Let's go to sleep, Clint," he whispers into the dead silent room. 

James made to get up to go over to his own bed, but Clint's hand shot out and grabbed ahold of his. "Stay. Please," Clint rasps out. His eyes are red and puffy from crying, and he looks so tired.

Sighing, James nods and says, "Okay. Just let me go to the bathroom first, okay?"

Clint nods and lets James get up to go to the bathroom, watching as the light turns on and the door close behind James. Clint lays down on the bed, getting under the covers. It's all out in the open now. James knows exactly what clint went through and, surprisingly, James is okay with it. He didn't look at him differently, or push him away, or tell him to leave. He accepted him for his past. If James can do that, then maybe he can do it for himself.

Just then, James left the bathroom and walked into the room. He's only wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight, white tank top. For a second, Clint doesn't think James is going to get back into his bed, but then he feels his bed dip and he smiles in relief.

James is hesitant, Clint can feel it. He doesn't know where to put himself. Suddenly, James sighs and mutters, "Aw, fuck it." All of a sudden, there's an arm around Clint's waist, pulling him closer so that he's flush up against James' chest. James' metal arm slides under the pillow, lifting his head up a little bit. "Is this okay?" James asks, after he got settled?

"Yeah. It's more than okay," Clint mumbles. He's never felt more safe and secure than in James' arms right now. He slowly falls asleep while listening to James' even breaths behind him. He leans back into James' warm embrace and he lets darkness take him until he wakes up again.


End file.
